Like A Revolutionary Ch. 01

Author's Note: The storyline is somewhat inspired by one of my favorite comic albums, „Tintin and the Picaros".

Have fun!

San Theodoros, South America

April 1974

When I came back to San Theodoros in search of a headline story I met him again and could tell instantly that he had changed.

Roberto Ramón Garcia, commonly known as General Garcia, was no longer the stiff, formal, stout image of a dictator I had met about six years ago when he had gained power in San Theodoros for the first time.

I had been a naive young journalism student of nineteen; and his longtime adversary General Sagoza had seized power in the banana republic. Garcia had managed to escape into exile, and I had been condemned to death for being his ally.

Then I had gotten drunk before stepping in front of a similarly inebriated firing squad, allegedly screaming "Long live General Garcia, bless his socks!" I had no recollection of the event but it had soon turned into some kind of legend. But I did remember General Garcia very well. He had seized power again right thereafter, made me a colonel, and it'd been the first time I had actually felt like an adult. Dictator Sagoza had gone into exile.

But one year ago, Sagoza had returned, and overthrown his enemy. Garcia had fled into exile once again, and remained there ever since. It was rumoured that he was hiding in the jungle of San Theodoros with a group of thirty or forty guerrilla warriors, planning the next coup d'état.

Of course, dictator Sagoza knew this too, and he routinely had boxes of whisky thrown from planes down into the jungle, presumably to turn the rebels into drunkards.

There I found him, and immediately saw that the General had changed. Years of hiding in the jungle had transformed him into a tanned, lean survival warrior who actually looked younger than before. If my guesses were accurate he was now in his late thirties, but it was hard to tell. At first glance, I had barely recognized him. It was his voice with the heavy Spanish accent, hoarse from years of smoking, that finally gave him away.

But he still had the same five o'clock shadow that he'd had as dictator back then. And those large hands with the dark hairs on their back. Those things I had noticed even as a boy-colonel. But back then I had been too inexperienced to understand why I found them so attractive; and way too shy to even consider how it would feel to get close to a man - a real one who felt like a man, looked like one, smelled like one - all those things I didn't have, things I wasn't. Even now at age 25, I was the same round-faced, smooth-skinned pretty boy, but I had acquired a lot more confidence over the years.

And here was an opportunity. I had recognized that in fact his rebels were hopeless drinkers; and unable to carry out a revolution.

I knocked at the door of the jungle hut. "Enter", a gruff voice commanded.

Leaving a heavy trail of cheap perfume his wife stomped out of the hut, slamming the door closed behind her.

I sat down at the bare wooden table opposite Garcia. "What if it would be possible to cure your guerrillas of their drunkenness? There may be a way."

"That's impossible, amigo." He sighed. How well it suited him, that sad, brooding expression. "But theoretically, if you actually managed to cure them... I'd give you a third of the gold reserves from the Banco de la Nación as soon as I'm back in power. Or, let's say, a quarter..."

"There is a way to cure the rebels' drinking habit, and I'll take care of that", I said. "But I don't want money. Not a single centavo."

"Ah, really? Then what do you want?"

"I want your promise that you'll carry out your revolution without bloodshed. No reprisals or executions or anything of that sort-"

"What?" he interrupted me, almost dropping his cigar. He got up from his chair, stepping right in front of me.

That was his aggressive, alpha-male look at its finest, I thought and wondered if he had any idea how attractive he was.

Poking a finger into my sternum, he said "You're completely crazy! Or a traitor who should be shot at once!"

Secretly thrilled to see him so aggressive, I maintained a calm face. "No, General - you're forgetting that I'm a former boy scout from Europe; I was raised with Pacifist ideas. There's no such thing as executions or death penalty where I come from so I'm opposed to those things, it's just a matter of personal values. And why would I be a traitor, offering you my help with your revolution? Consider that. You won't be able to accomplish your mission with a bunch of drunkards."

His face was still close to mine, and his finger hadn't moved. He seemed deep in thought. Gently I placed my hand on his, feeling how warm - and indeed, quite hairy - it was, pushing it away from me. "It's quite simple", I said, "you have my promise that I'll cure your men of their drinking habit, if you promise me-"

"Well, if you give me that promise, there's one more thing I can offer you."

"Ah, yes?" He raised an eyebrow.

My heart was pounding. This was so daring - I had absolutely no idea how he'd respond to this crazy offer of mine so I would have to test the waters."I'm not sure if it's your cup of tea, though", I said, leaning forward a little so that my face was even closer to his.

Suddenly reminded that he was still standing menacingly in front of me, he sat down again, pulling his chair a little closer to mine. "What is it?" he said impatiently.

"It's all a young lad like me has to offer." I put one hand on his knee. Time to be less formal. "Garcia, if you don't know what I mean... let me show you. You'll like it."

He stared at me, his blank expression hard to read. Did he understand?

Next step - more directness. I caressed his knee. "General, I know what a man like you needs. And I'm offering you exactly that."

His cheeks had reddened, and he'd forgotten about his cigar. "You..." he began, raising a finger.

Fuck! He was angry. Damn it. It had been a stupid idea; and I was a stupid boy, having insulted him by assuming he would readily share his bed with another male. Quickly I got up from my chair. "I'm sorry, General. Obviously it's nothing you'd ever want... I should have known. Let's forget about it." I walked towards the door. "My apologies for the intrusion."

"Wait!" He jumped up, and just as I was going to open the door, he stepped in front of me, shoving me towards the wall, facing me. He placed both his hands onto the wall so that my head was between them.

Surprised, I stood there, between the wall and the General who was suddenly so close to me, our bodies almost touching. Again I felt his breath on my face. It went a little faster.

"Say it again, lad", he commanded. The cigar was gone. "What are you offering?"

"I..." My knees were a little weak, and my heartbeat faster than before. I could smell him, sweat and cigar smoke, so irresistibly male. The top button of his shirt was open and I caught a glimpse of dark chest hair. Oh Jesus. A familiar tingling in my pants. Like a schoolboy I found it impossible to suppress an erection.

"I... I meant...", I stuttered, "that if you promise not to execute anyone... you can have me."

Dear God, how manly his face looked up close. The rough stubble and the strong square jaw made him look like the star of some action movie. Keep your composure, Johan, don't swoon now!

He took a deep breath, then touched my face, letting one hand carefully trail along my cheek, my chin and neck. "I can have you..." It was a statement rather than a question.

I took his hand into mine, deliberately slowly guiding his fingers along my lips. My gaze was locked into his.

His fingertips felt hard and calloused on my lips. I stuck out my tongue, slowly licking them. I heard him sharply suck in breath and he opened his mouth, but said nothing.

They tasted salty, his fingers, and I focused on just one, licking its entire length and then closing my mouth around the tip, sucking lightly. All the time I looked into his eyes.

"Oh Johan", he said, voice low and hoarse.

Yes, oh, yes. I had him! It was a crazy feeling, this mix of triumph and lust. "Yes, General", I said, "let's have fun."

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the wall, leaning forward to kiss me. His lips met mine; demandingly and forcefully he thrust his tongue into my mouth. It was so wet, so thrillingly wild and rough. I felt his stubble on my face, more exciting than irritating, and tasted tobacco on his tongue.

I was getting more aroused and my jeans became uncomfortably tight. As if that wasn't enough, he pushed his thigh between my legs, forcing them apart while kissing me.

He pressed his own body against mine, his thigh firmly in my crotch. I moaned softly into his mouth, rocking against him as far as the lack of space would allow.

Feeling encouraged, I tore one hand free from his grip, reaching behind him to squeeze his butt that I had so often looked at. It felt firm and round in those military-style cargo pants.

"Madre de Dios, boy, you really need some." His voice was a hoarse whisper. He roughly kissed my neck, and finally let my other wrist free as well so he could open my jeans.

He was aroused as well; I could feel his erection against me, hard and big through the fabric of his pants. "I want you", I whispered.

"Not specific enough... Tell me what you want."

"I want..." My hand went to the bulge in his pants, feeling it. "Your cock. Inside me." Never before had I actually said such a thing, and I felt my face blush.

Swiftly reaching under my arms and legs, General Garcia lifted me up - so suddenly that for a moment I thought I was flying. He carried me towards the field bed in the back of the hut and with a grunt half dropped, half laid me down onto it. The small bed creaked.

While I sat on that bed, half dizzy with desire and half amazed at how strong he was, he hastily pushed the table in front of the door to keep it locked. Then he grabbed something from a wooden banana box near the bed - it was a small jar of vaseline. Quickly he knelt on the bed next to me, unbuckling his belt. "Get naked", he said, but he didn't need to tell me that - I was already undressing, my fingers trembling with excitement. Oh God, this wasn't really happening, was it?

When I was fully naked - he stared at me hungrily, his gaze taking in everything - he leaned over me, supporting himself on his elbows next to my head, and again we were face to face.

"Take your shirt off", I said, fumbling with the buttons. He did so, and I held my breath as I finally saw that yes, he indeed looked as hot as I had imagined: a generous amount of wiry dark hair covering a tanned, muscular upper body. Fascinated, I touched him and discovered a line of hair leading down his stomach, into his half-open pants. I reached forward, pulling his pants out of the way, freeing his erection. He moaned when I closed my hand around it, and I stroked it, wanting to feel more of it. It felt hot and hard in my grip, and the tip was moist with pre-cum.

Impatiently, he pushed my legs further apart, and reached for the vaseline jar.

"Yeah." His voice was raspy with desire. Instantly he pushed one lubricated finger into me and I gasped at the sudden stretch.

"Yes, yes", I uttered.

He entered a second finger. "You like it rough?"

"Yes", I half moaned, half shouted.

"Then I shall fuck you like... like..." He searched for words, "... a fucking revolutionary!" Kneeling on the bed, he positioned himself between my invitingly spread-open thighs, pushing his hardness against me. I found it hard to relax, being tense with tingling lust.

I felt his hands under my bottom as he lifted me up, apparently effortlessly, and couldn't hold back a cry as he forced his way inside me. He was so big that it was a little painful, but I was so overwhelmed with pleasure and, strangely, triumph, that I wrapped my legs around him at once, enabling him to go deeper.

Digging my fingernails into his back, I whimpered and gasped as he started to move inside me. "Yes... yes...! Harder!"

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of his thrusts hitting that sensitive spot inside me that made me shudder and tingle with pleasure. I felt his hot breath on my naked skin, then he reached between our sweaty bodies with one hand, finding my erection and stroking it.

Oh God, oh God, this felt amazing. I moaned as I felt his experienced grip around my most sensitive area. Then he continued thrusting, moving more forcefully.

Opening my eyes again, I could see him above me, his half-long hair tousled and moist with sweat; his face reddened and tense from the arousal and effort. He was working hard, driving me closer to the edge.

"Oh, Garcia!"

One hard, deep thrust - it almost hurt.

"Yes", I shouted.

I couldn't resist, reaching down with my own hand to touch myself. I was losing the battle between holding back and enjoying it, and letting go. All the built-up tension in my body demanded immediate release. "I can't... I can't... anymore!"

The flimsy bed, unused to such rough treatment, rocked and creaked.

Breathing heavily onto my skin, he spoke. "You like that... eh? ... You like it rough?"

"Yes, yes" I gasped.

"Be quiet... they'll hear you!"

"It's you, you're... making me... scream!"

He paused, panting. "I'm gonna come."

I just nodded, unable to keep it back any longer myself. Again, a hard thrust, and I finally allowed myself to let go. I cried out as something seemed to explode behind my eyes, like fireworks in my brain, and there it was, the intense feeling of relief overwhelming my entire body.

Exhausted, I let go of him, dropping my arms onto the bed, and I felt a strange twitching as he came inside me. Through my half-closed eyes I still caught a glimpse of his face before he let himself fall onto the bed next to me.

Too tired to think with my clouded mind, I barely noticed my own sticky semen on my stomach. My entire body felt hot and sweaty, my backside hurt, and I stayed on the bed for a while, still breathing heavily.